


It's Derek's Fault

by ambitioncutsusdown



Series: Pleasures of Pining [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Derek and Stiles are also not together, Eyebrow fetish, Just Stiles thinking about it, Just Stiles thinking about them, M/M, Masturbation, No actual blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek also has a really nice smile even though Stiles has only seen it once or twice, but that glare is also really nice if you’re into it. </p><p>And Stiles is so fucking into it, it’s almost laughable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Derek's Fault

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where the eyebrow-thing came from but honestly they cannot be unseen. I hope it's not too bad.

Stiles is fucked.

Not - you know,  _fucked_  (he wishes he was) but just… fucked. 

He knows it the moment he comes home after pack meeting, when he’s tired and flushed and worn out and wants nothing more than to crawl in bed and sleep (or die), but on the other hand, he’s so insanely turned on it genuinely surprises him his jeans aren’t tenting by now. 

And it isn’t even his fault.

He’s a teenager. It’s only normal that about everything gets him hot and bothered, right? So when Derek gives him _that_  look (when his eyebrows furrow together and he gives some sort of half-shrug and his stupidly big hands are on his hips) it’s only normal he gets turned on by it. It’s the body. Derek has a really nice body. _Really_ nice. And really nice eyes, no matter what color they are because Stiles can admit he kind of likes all the different shades they get. Derek also has a really nice smile even though Stiles has only seen it once or twice, but that glare is also really nice if you’re into it. 

And Stiles is so fucking into it, it’s almost laughable. 

Almost without noticing it, his hand has slipped down his chest to his groin and, oh, yeah, he’s definitely tenting now. Good.

No, not good. 

He’s fairly sure that the grumpy alpha that caused all of this, wouldn’t be very happy with knowing Stiles has less than decent thoughts about him. Or wet dreams. Or dreams in general.

Not that he ever has to know.

But what if he asks? He’ll pick up on the lie.

But why would he ask?

Stiles’ inner dialogue almost has him more frustrated than the hard-on that’s currently pressed against his zipper, so he decides to just stop thinking (hah) and put himself to work. Yes, _that_ way. His father isn’t home and Scott is braiding Allison’s hair and the rest of the pack is dashing around like the puppy pile they are and no one is likely to bother him, which means he wouldn’t need to be quiet, which means heaven and green light and ringing bells and everything. Jerking off while trying to swallow every moan and whimper is only half as satisfying. He’s found that out by experience.

Shedding his clothes doesn’t take much time, neither does throwing them to the floor and kicking them aside so he won’t trip over them later. He is on his back on the bed before he knows it, getting comfortable with his head on the pillow and one hand over his chest, stroking it lightly while the other travels down his stomach and pubic bone until it is resting on the inside of his thigh.

Even though he sometimes likes to draw things out, he figures today is not such a time. Derek’s stupid eyebrows have been taunting him for too long and he’s been hard nearly the entire drive home so he needs and he needs it _now_. 

That’s the last thought Stiles is really aware of before his fingers curl around his cock, giving him a hint of friction, but it’s only teasing (Stiles knows he has a fairly sensitive dick, so being too rough too quick? Yeah dude, it hurts and it’s certainly not a promise for mind-blowing orgasms). Fluttering touches over his shaft and fondling his balls and flicking his thumb over the slit follow next, forcing little breathy noises from his throat. It seems not enough, but Stiles knows what he’s working up to and that it’ll be worth it. 

He lets his eyes fall shut and instantly there are thoughts and images and pictures on his mind, but Stiles doesn’t even consider them. He already knows what he wants (not that he’s thought of it before, oh god, no, that’d just be wrong, like eleventy on the scale, and _wow no_ ). 

He thinks - not so surprisingly - of Derek. Derek and his stupid face that’s sculptured like some Greek god with his stupid jawline and the eyes and lips and eyebrows. A small gasp escapes him as he pictures Derek on front of him, on his knees, with his eyes closed and that stubble on his jaw and his mouth open, waiting for Stiles and wanting Stiles and Stiles wants him too and he wants that mouth. He wants to kiss it and he wants to slide his thumb over it and he wants to push his cock inside of it, and all at once if possible thank you very much. 

His grip on his erection becomes bit firmer, more stroking than teasing now. It feels good. He stops the motion long enough to bring his hand to his mouth and lick a stripe up his palm, making his grip more slick as he wraps his fingers around his cock. Yeah. That’s good. Wet and hot and tight, like Derek’s throat would be.

Stiles really hopes Derek’s throat is like that. And that he doesn’t use teeth. But Derek wouldn’t. He’d use tongue and lips and spit and it would be the best friction ever. Not dry, like his hands, and there wouldn’t be an awkward flick of wrists, and it wouldn’t hurt like dry skin always hurts on his dick. It would be slick and perfect and everything Stiles wants. 

And Derek’s eyes would be closed as he sucks and licks and nips and does whatever you do while giving a blowjob (porn really isn’t much help with that, Stiles can know), so he can concentrate on that. 

He speeds up his hand, long past nice and slow now. His back is arching and his head is thrown back, lone moans and soft gasps spilling over his lips, already getting closer to the edge, as if it is really Derek’s mouth instead of Stiles’ fist. Derek would be so good; his Derek, the Derek of his fantasies always is. Probably because that Derek never growls. Would he swallow? Stiles thinks Derek would, if he really wanted to. Or maybe if Stiles wanted him to. Does he want that? Does he want to come in Derek’s mouth? 

Not really a hard question.

But then something else springs to his mind - the thought of –  _Christ, he’s close_ – the thought of pulling out of Derek’s mouth right as he is about to come and finishing himself off with his hand, coming over Derek’s face, coating his jaw and stubble and lips with come, and… oh fuck, Derek’s eyebrows. Coming all over Derek’s eyebrows, have his semen dripping down his temples and forehead until it reaches his cheeks, but the eyebrows, the fucking eyebrows.

Stiles cries out quietly as he reaches his climax, his orgasm almost coming as a surprise as it washes over him. He stills his hand for a second as his muscles tense, but then he’s jerking himself faster, working himself through it because it’s good, it’s so good, it’s Derek…

While he tries to catch his breath, he absently reaches for the tissues that are on his night table to clean himself up a bit, realizing he just came to the thought of his come dripping down Derek’s eyebrows.

Yeah. He’s fucked.


End file.
